Flying through the dark
by Andre Morres
Summary: Most of the team is stuck in the Dark Place trying to write a story to get them out, whilst Robin is stuck in the real world, living out the script.
1. The beginning to a bad day

It was dark in the woods. Naturally, Batman wouldn't be scared, but Robin wasn't Batman. Robin thought he heard things, saw a man in the corner of his eye, that sort of thing. A twig cracked, and his heart jumped. He turned to look. Nothing there.

He kept walking, still seeing shadows, when far ahead he could see the barest of lights poking through the tree's, a glimmer of hope in the dark. He started to run for it, going fast. For a moment, he thought the only thing faster than him was Wally.

Then there was a crack, a scream, and a sales pitch.

"WELCOME, to Bright Falls! PLEASED to MEET you, NON-refundable, FAIR AND SQUARE!"

The man was clearly insane. Robin reached for his utility belt, but it was no longer there, the familiar weight and feel of his gadgets gone. The crazed killer looked up, a smile on his face, and he jumped as high as Superboy.

Robin could see the light not too far ahead. If he could make it, than he could call the police. He started running again, legs pounding and heart racing as he tried to get through to the cabin. Maybe it had a lock.

As he ran, he could hear more of the disgruntled sales pitch, describing the beauty of the area, and the deep lake. He kept running. If this man was insane, he might even be crazier than the Joker. His footsteps reverberated off the wood, dull thumps that started to match the pace of Robin's heartbeat.

Finally, he made it to the little cabin, and slammed the door shut. The man outside still yelled. Robin cringed. This felt similar, like he was an actor in a play he'd already read. He picked up a flashlight, because it was dark outside. And then he pondered the gun.

He'd sworn an oath not to use guns. Guns were bad. But, most of all he didn't know how to use guns. But there was a crazy man out there with an axe, and while Robin may have been a bit strange, he wasn't crazed.

He picked it up, and it was surprisingly light. He could still hear the man outside. Pounding, shouting, doing whatever he could to get into the small sanctuary that lay in the lumber mill, with one gun, one flashlight, 18 bullets, 12 batteries and one phone.

A phone that Robin could use. This generally went against all of Robins principles, but he was alone, and if he faced the man and was overpowered, there would be no trap, or bargain, just certain, cold death. He picked up the Phone.

He pushed in the numbers 9, 1 and 1, and then the phone rang. And rang. And rang. Finally, when it seemed that the person at the police station in wherever he was had picked up, the small little outlet of protection was slammed by a vehicle.

He dashed out the door, only to see a piece of logging equipment drag off the cabin he was in. Robin tried to remember how he had gotten here, but could only draw blanks. A fragment here, a fraction there, all jumbled up in his head, nigh impossible to put together.

Suddenly, more shadowy men leapt out of the shadows, axes and knives pulled seemingly from nowhere. But that defied the laws of physics, of which Robin was a strong practitioner. They clambered forward, and he pointed the light at them.

For a second, it drove him them off, and then they resumed the onslaught. Robin could see the sparks leaping from their skin, as if the light was shredding away steel. Robin didn't know just how right he was on that theory.

Suddenly there was a flash, and Robin pulled the trigger at the sudden sound, his heart trying desperately to crack his ribs. Robin pulled the trigger at the sudden sound, his heart trying desperately to crack his ribs. Then, as suddenly as the attackers had appeared, they were gone. Batman would have been proud of them.

Suddenly, Robin fell on the forest floor, the sounds of the circus and the aroma of popcorn and cotton candy wafting through to his brain, as he heard the gunfire of a hit man strike right through his parents hearts. His head pounding, Dick lay on the ground, trying to recuperate from the sudden aggressive assault on both his mind and body.


	2. Seeds are planted

Meanwhile, in the Dark Place, Wally was trapped. He hated it; it defied every living cell in his body, and a couple of the dead ones too. It wasn't a solid, it couldn't be investigated, each time he tried to categorize it changed.

Right now, there seemed to be no end to the place he was trapped in, and he was driven out of his mind… Again. The Dark Place was strange, and it stretched and pulled at Wally like he was a piece of taffy, waiting for him to break.

Right now he was, stuck in a position where his insanity had split from his rationality, his creationism ruling over science. He could hear the, the things crawling in the darkness of an alleyway that never seemed to end.

He was running as fast as he could and at the same time was going nowhere. He had to get back to the ad hoc home that the Team had constructed. And in order to do that, he would have to face what was right in front of him: The supernatural existed.

But he couldn't, he rejected it with every single ounce of his being. He refused to accept it, and until he did, he would be stuck here, in a permanent state of being torn until he escape, and he didn't even know if he could do that in his current state.

Meanwhile, his own reflection taunted him, peering from shards of glass and broken mirrors. "You have to face it eventually. You have to give in! Your laws are useless! Just give in to the chaos…"

Wally ran even faster, his legs burning, going at speed that should have started burning him via the sheer amount of friction he was creating, but the Dark Place once again refused to bend to the laws of physics.

In the shadows, the Dark Presence watched, the malevolent force plotting to escape from these other pawns. They would be easier to convince than the last writer, far easier. So, it took form and approached the young speedster.

"_Hello, Wally. Why don't you slow down? After all, you're burning yourself."_ Like magic, a crude imitation of flames sprang from Wally's own shadow. "Ah!" He screamed, feeling the pain creeping into his knees.

"_Good. After all, this place doesn't exist… You're just crazy… Why should you stop? After all, you can literally hear your own reflection. You're lost, hopelessly lost in your own mind!" _Wally didn't need much to convince him he was insane. He already knew that this defied everything, that what he was doing was impossible. He didn't need food, or sleep, or even to perform bowel functions. He had to be crazy. What other explanation was there?

"_Oh, hush. Stop crying, I know how I can help you. You just need to find yourself, don't you? Why, I bet you're just around the corner, aren't you?" _Wally, broken down and depressed, having no other option, walked around the corner, and there he was.

In front of Wally 2 was a typewriter, which he clacked away on, screaming and moaning, and whether or not they were of pleasure or pain, Wally 1 couldn't tell. _"Go on, just touch him. Then you'll be just fine. You'll meet your friends and laugh it off, like it's a joke."_

Wally merged back into one, and found he was still in the same place, the same hell that had tortured him for days on end with no end in sight. He broke down._ "Oh, of course you're still here. You were an idiot to think you were insane, what mental illness makes this? But I know another way. All you have to do is writing. Simple, and when you're done, you can leave this behind you."_

Suddenly, the Team intruded, and the Dark Presence disappeared. "Guys, I figured out how to get out of this place! All we have to do is write!"


	3. Enemies and theories

The typewriter clacked off like rounds of a machine gun, words flowing into the air and disappearing into the darkness, evaporating into nothing. Artemis brushed it off, just another feeling that would deflect off a shield she worked hard to build around her heart.

Suggestions and theories were pitched into the story, growing and threatening to consume the small little cut out they had carved for them in the Dark Place. Meanwhile, something watched from the shadows, a sinister twist of a grin on its face, and looked at its puppets.

"O.K. Wally, how does this thing work?"

She asked, seriously doubting that words on white paper were going to save them. Haunting music played in the background. Wally laughed, the effect on his mind still scarring, the encounter with the Dark Presence merely deepening it, and filling it with shadows.

"Whatever happens in this place, doesn't affect the real world. But, when we set imaginary things here, since this is imagination, it projects onto the real world. At least, that's the theory."

Zattanna couldn't argue. She used words to forge weapons, what could she say against this? But something still felt… Off. Like this wasn't Wally, it was dark reflection. And in this place, whatever it was called, everything dark was deadly.

She wondered for a second if, like the Dark Place, people were just as subjective. In the corner of her eye, a mountain rose so it could crumble.

Yes, she decided, people were just as subjective.

In the real world, Robin recovered, albeit slowly. The gun had disappeared, like a shadow, but the flashlight glared and pierced into the darkness like a spotlight, brighter than it should it have been.. And right now, that one, tiny ray of light, against a crushing ocean of darkness, was enough, Suddenly, a tree crashed in the forest, and Dick's heart dropped and froze for a second.

They were coming.

**So, what do you think? Please review, I want to no what's wrong and what's good.**


End file.
